


If I Can't Find You

by TwoBoys2Love



Series: Light Wolf [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hunter Dean, Hunter Dean Winchester, Hunter Sam, Hunter Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester - Freeform, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, The Light Wolf, Werewolf Sam, Werewolf Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform, werewolf!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9840356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBoys2Love/pseuds/TwoBoys2Love
Summary: The Winchesters are learning how to deal with Sam's new life. But it's affecting them both differently. Emotions are a tangle.





	

Dean had tried tracking Sam’s phone, but Sam had caught onto that trick years back. There were no bills or credit card accounts to track because Sam had changed all of them. It was as though Sam had vanished.

And why wouldn’t he be good at vanishing? Dean had taught Sam everything he knew about living off the grid. But, that left Dean with _nothing_. He had no leads and not a single fucking clue how to even start looking for his brother. It was a horrible feeling and he hated it every time it crept back into his life.

It had never been like that before. He had always known Sam better than he knew himself, at least, right up until the moment he had changed.

Bobby walked into the kitchen and his gaze moved over the kitchen table in front of Dean. “Little early in the morning to empty the liquor cabinet, don’t ya think?”

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Dean groaned. “Haven’t been to sleep.”

“ _That’s_ a great strategy for finding yer brother. Stay up all night and drink. Good, Dean.”

“Bobby, don’t,” Dean said gruffly. “I - I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Well.” Bobby kicked one of the chairs out so he could sit down. “While you were in here drowning your sorrows, I had my ear to the ground. Just started to get some calls back from other hunters in the state.”

“And?” Dean couldn’t help leaning forward. Any nugget of information about Sam would feel like a fucking miracle.

Bobby straightened his ball cap and sniffed one of the empty glasses on the table. He frowned and set it down. “Seems like there’s someone doin’ some hunting down state and no one knows who it is.”

Disappointment nipped at Dean’s chest. “Oh, c’mon, bobby. That’s nothing. Just another hunter. Sam’s not stupid. He won’t hunt, especially not alone like… he is.”

“Shut up and listen, Dean,” Bobby growled. “I started tracin’ these callbacks and if you keep your trap shut I'll tell you what I figured out. These hunts, they’re all vamps. And they pretty much link up to the old highway that runs parallel to the Interstate.”

“So?” Dean really wasn’t seeing the whole picture and it felt like a huge waste of time.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Are you still _drunk_ or just stupid?”

“No,” Dean said. “What?” He kind of proved Bobby’s point by not being able to answer and that made him clench his jaw.

“The trail of these hunts starts about a hundred miles south of the cabin and near as I can tell...it’s gonna end up in Lawrence.”

 _Home_. Well, it had been home to Dean - never really home to Sam. Dean hated going back there; too many memories and not enough answers.

“Lawrence,” Dean echoed.

“Weird, right?”

“I wouldn’t have put money on him goin’ there,” Dean said. A dozen other places would have come to mind for Sam before Lawrence.

“You better start drivin’,” Bobby muttered as he trudged out of the kitchen. “And yer welcome.”

~~~~~~~

Dean drove for hours before he stopped long enough to call Bobby for an update. Of course, Bobby was right. The string of hunts had continued with another hit. Someone had cleaned out, yet another, small vamp’s nest.

Sam, if it was Sam, was busy.

But, if it was Sam, then he was also being an idiot. He seemed to be working non-stop and that kind of pace alone was a huge risk.

As the dark road stretched out in front of him, Dean tried to figure out why Sam would head to Lawrence. It didn’t matter how many times he ran over it in his head, it made no sense. There were lots of times when Sam made no sense, but Lawrence?

Dean just had to talk to Sam and the problem was that it was going to take a few days to get to Lawrence. As many hours as Dean could drive out of twenty-four, and it was a lot, it was going to take way too fucking long.

It was all about getting to Sam.

~~~~~~~

By the time Dean pulled into Lawrence, he was exhausted and he smelled terrible. He hadn’t stopped to sleep for more than a couple of hours every day. It was pushing the limits even for him.

It was the middle of the night so there weren’t very many cars on the roads. Dean remembered the place all too well. He drove straight past the Motel that he and Sam had stayed at the last time they were in town. He knew Sam wouldn't stay there; too predictable.

That left nothing to do but go on but instinct. His gut lead him to a tiny motel on the outskirts of town called, _Whispering Oaks._ There was a middle-aged woman behind the counter and it didn’t take much for Dean to get her to talk to him. He gave her his best grin as he checked in and when she disappeared to get him an extra pillow, Dean stole a look at the register book. _God bless people with no computer skills._

Five minutes later, Dean had a room key in one hand, a pillow under the other arm and he was headed to the room of Angus Young. Apparently, some habits were harder to give up than others.

He knocked on the door of room 109 and waited. The curtains were drawn but there was a peephole in the door. Sam would know it was him.

There was nothing but silence.

“Sam? I know you’re in there. If I kick the door in it’ll get us both kicked out and you’ll have to come out anyway.”

There was a thump behind the door and then Dean heard the lock turn.

When the door swung open, all Dean could see was Sam’s back as he walked away.

“Nice to see you too,” Dean said as he stepped into the room. He tossed the extra pillow on the bed and his keys on the table before he closed the door and locked it.

Sam was already sitting at the table by the window. His gun was in pieces in front of him and he was cleaning it with an old cloth. Dean could smell the gun oil from across the room.

“You got any beer?”

“No.”

“Awesome.” Dean flipped the other chair around and straddled it. “You wanna give me a good reason why I shouldn’t punch you?”

“Typical,” Sam murmured.

“Sam. What the _fuck_? You don’t get to take off like that. Do you have any idea how I felt?”

Sam’s hands froze as he looked up. He studied Dean’s appearance for a few moments then frowned. “It’s not safe for me to be around you.”

“Oh, fuck off. We were doing fine.” There may have been a few glitches but, considering Sam was a werewolf, things could have been a _lot_ worse.

“I could have killed you,” Sam snapped. “Or worse. I could have changed you.”

“Would that be so bad? We could-”

“Don’t even _joke_ about that, Dean. I will _not_ live with changing anyone, let alone my brother.” Sam’s cheeks were red with the flush of anger. “I will not live with that. I don’t care _what_ you think.”

After a few seconds of giving Dean a death glare, Sam looked down at the gun again and went back to work. His hands were shaking a little, and there was a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Things were going great.

Dean sighed and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. “Sam? Did you leave just because you thought you would hurt me? Was there another reason?”

The question seemed to slow Sam’s movements and then, after a while, he set the gun down. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Maybe _that_ was why they were in Lawrence. “Well, obviously, you’re still a hunter even if you’ve been an idiot about it.”

When Sam looked up, his brow was furrowed and Dean almost wished he could, for once, stop with the snarky comments. But his brain was hardwired to rip into Sam when they were on uneasy ground. It had always been part of his strategy for keeping Sam at arm’s length.

“Hunting by yourself, Sam? Case after case?” Dean took a harder look at his brother. “You lost weight.”

Sam shrugged.

Dean was getting frustrated already. There were times when it didn’t take very long for that to happen with Sam. “So, what’s your purpose here?”

“Purpose?”

Dean blinked slowly and tried to cling to the limited patience he had left. “Why are we doing this?”

“I gotta do something.” Sam began to put his gun back together, piece by piece. The clicking of metal against metal was loud in the small room.

“Sam, talk to me.”

The gun smacked down onto the table in front of Sam. “What the _fuck_ do you want from me? I didn’t want to try and live with this and you made me. Then you convinced me that everything would be okay and I almost attacked you. I couldn’t live with that.”

“So, you left?”

“So. I left. It was the right thing to do,” Sam said firmly.

“And, that’s it? I don’t get any say in this?” Dean could feel anger brewing in his chest. He felt like they’d had the same conversation over and over.

“This is about me and what I’m not willing to do.” Sam buried his hands in his hair and looked about as frustrated as Dean had ever seen him look.

“I’m not leaving,” Dean said flatly.

“Then I will. It’s over, Dean. _We_ are over.” Sam stood so quickly that the chair he’d been sitting on fell backward. He strode over to the bed as he slipped his gun into the back of his jeans, grabbed his duffel bag and headed for the door.

Dean sprang from the chair and grabbed Sam’s arm. “Enough, Sam. This is crazy. After what we’ve been through, we belong together.”

Sam tried unsuccessfully to yank his arm free. “Why don’t you get it?”

“I _do_ get it. I know exactly what you’re worried about but I also know that you’d never do anything to hurt me.” Dean snatched the duffel bag out of his brother’s hand and tossed it across the room.

“Dean-”

“No!” Dean yelled. “I’m _done_ with this. You. We have something, you and me. And we’re working on making this good. At least, _I_ am.”

Sam was silent but his shoulders slumped slightly.

Afraid he would lose whatever ground he might have gained, Dean tugged Sam in closer. He was exhausted, and he’d had enough. “You can keep leavin’ and I’ll keep findin’ you. That’s a lot of energy we can waste or we can just stick together like we’ve always done.”

For a while, Sam was motionless, then he shook his head. “I _can’t_ live with killing you.”

“You won’t have to.” Getting desperate, Dean pressed into Sam’s space until he had to relinquish some ground. “I will keep finding you.”

Eventually, Sam bumped into the dingy wall and he let out a shaky breath. “I can’t hurt you.”

Shaking his head, Dean slid his hands over his brother’s shoulders. “You know, I will _never_ stop following you, Sammy. I …”

Tilting his head slightly, Sam peered at Dean with wide eyes. “You what?”

There were some things that Dean found almost impossible to say. There weren’t even big enough words to describe how Dean felt about his brother. He tried but he felt like it deserved to be said so much better than he could say it.

They were special; they _had_ something special. In the entire fucking world, there probably weren’t another two people like Sam and Dean. But, how could Dean tell his brother that? 

Dean said the only thing that was in his heart. “Sammy, I don’t know how to live without you.”

The next breath that Sam drew in hitched and he closed his eyes for a few moments.

“Don’t make me, please.” There were tears burning in Dean’s eyes and he looked down so Sam wouldn’t see.

Then Sam’s forehead was resting against Dean’s and his hands slipped around Dean’s waist. The next sound that Dean heard was his brother sobbing.

In his entire life, Dean had never heard anything more heartbreaking. He just held on to Sam, pressed a kiss to Sam’s wet cheek and waited it out.

~~~~~~~

Sam slept like the dead. Dean knew that because he was pretty sure he stared at his little brother for the entire time they lay in bed. There was part of him that worried Sam would be gone if he closed his eyes. There was another part of him that wasn’t sure _what_ to expect at all. Maybe Sam would change even though it wasn’t a full moon. The motel room could catch on fire. Even the world ending wouldn’t surprise Dean but if it was going to happen then he would be right at his little brother’s side, watching him sleep.

About five in the morning, Dean reached out and pressed his fingertips to the pulse he could see fluttering in Sam’s neck. The first time he’d felt that pulse against his own skin he’d been about twelve. Sam had been sick with a fever for days and Dean had been so worried he had stopped leaving Sam’s side. When his eyes burned because he’d been awake too long, he would close them and keep his fingers pressed to Sam’s soft, wrist. The slow and steady bump of Sam’s pulse was the only thing that made Dean feel better.

“You used to do that when we were kids,” Sam said in a sleep-deep voice.

Dean opened his eyes slowly and smiled. “I did.” 

It surprised him that Sam could remember so much sometimes. In comparison, a lot of Dean’s youth was a blur.

“I knew you’d be here when I woke up.”

Dean nodded once. It had never entered his mind to leave and he was really glad that Sam knew that.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You were sleeping, Sam.”

“Before I went to sleep,” Sam countered with a half-smile on his face.

“And?” Dean propped his head on his hand and steeled himself for another round of arguing.

Sam’s eyes were a little puffy. He had cried almost until the moment he’d fallen asleep. Sleep had left a rosy glow on his cheeks and the combined effect was that he looked like a teenager again. “I’ve trusted you my entire life, Dean. This would be a really stupid time to stop.”

The enormity of Sam’s words took more than a few moments to settle in Dean’s mind and relief followed fast on its heels. He closed his weary eyes for a few moments and when he opened them again, Sam was still there. Dean nodded.

“If you think we can do this, then we’ll do it,” Sam said a little more firmly.

“You’re not gonna take off anymore?” Dean couldn’t get himself to smile until he was _sure_.

Shaking his head slowly, Sam pressed his lips together.

“Promise,” Dean ordered. His little brother had never broken a promise.

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I promise I’m not gonna take off anymore.”

“Okay then.” Dean finally felt some of the tension leave his body and the exhaustion he’d been trying to put off was finally catching up with him.

“You need to sleep, Dean.” Sam looked worried.

“Drove a lot. _And_ , I wasn’t closin’ my damn eyes until I knew you'd still be here when I opened ‘em again.” It made Dean feel a little self-conscious to admit how worried he’d been about losing Sam again. 

“You can sleep now,” Sam said. He stretched his spine out a little then propped himself up on his elbows. “It’s okay.”

Dean let his head drop down onto the pillow and it felt damn good. What felt even better, though, was the warm, dry press of Sam’s lips against his forehead.

It was the _best_ thing Dean had felt in a very long time.

~~~~~~~

When Dean woke up his eyes were bleary at first. He took a deep breath and arched his back in a delicious stretch. He blinked a few times and looked around.

The sheets were messed up beside him, Sam’s jacket and boots were gone. Dean’s heart leapt a few beats ahead of itself. But, Sam had promised he wouldn’t leave.

Dean flung the covers back and swung his legs down. He rubbed at his face vigorously then looked around again. Late morning sun glinted off the keys where they were sitting on the table. Sam wouldn’t take the car.

_Sam had promised._

The doorknob rattled and then Sam tumbled into the room as it opened suddenly. “Piece of shit door.”

When Dean looked up, he couldn’t help smiling. Sam was carrying entirely too much: a bag of food, two coffees and a plastic bag with bagels or something in it.

“You’re carrying a bit too much there, little brother,” Dean said gruffly.

Everything Sam was carrying clunked onto the table as he set it down. One of the paper coffee cups was a bit crunched and there was coffee on the front of Sam’s jacket. He brushed at it ineffectively. “Didn’t have anything here to eat and I knew you’d be hungry … _when_ you woke up.”

“Yeah.” Relief flowed cool and sweet through Dean’s veins and he made the moment last as long as he could.

“You thought I took off, didn’t you?” The bag crinkled as Sam pulled some breakfast sandwiches out of one of the bags.

“No,” Dean answered quickly. “Maybe, but only for a second when I woke up.”

Sam snorted and walked over with the less battered of the two coffee cups and held it out to Dean.

“Thanks.”

“I promised I wouldn't leave,” Sam said softly.

Nodding, Dean studied the coffee cup so he could avoid looking up at his brother’s face. “I know.” 

The problem was that Dean _didn’t_ know that Sam wouldn’t leave. There were some things that were changing about Sam and it was an unfamiliar feeling. The promise _did_ mean something; Dean knew that. But, the feeling of not knowing where Sam was lingered. Dean _hated_ that feeling more than he hated anything else. Sam should always be at his side, right where Dean could keep an eye on him.

“I promised you; I won’t go anywhere.” Sam shrugged. “Other than to get food and stuff like that.”

“I know, Sam.” Dean struggled with the plastic lid on his coffee then finally got it open. “It was only for a couple of seconds when I woke up. Just tellin’ the truth.”

“The truth is good,” Sam said quietly.

Dean nodded again and took a sip of coffee. The hot liquid burned his tongue and he sucked in a quick breath.

Sam reached down and ran his thumb along Dean's bottom lip. “Don’t hurt yourself. It’s hot.”

There was a snarky reply on the tip of Dean’s tongue but it disappeared quickly when he saw the warmth on his brother’s face. 

“Better eat before it gets cold,” Dean muttered.

Sam went back to the table and divided the food into mostly equal portions. He always gave Dean a little more. He sank down onto one of the chairs and sighed.

“What’s up?” Dean hunted around for his jeans then snatched them up off the floor. He stepped into them and tugged them up over his hips.

“I don’t sleep as much now,” Sam said. He unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite.

“Since…” Dean gestured vaguely. He could never figure out how to say it: since you got bitten, since you became a werewolf, since the night I nearly lost you.”

Sam nodded as he chewed.

“Anything else different?”

The flesh on Sam’s throat moved as he swallowed. “I heal faster. I’m hungry. I feel … different.”

There was a t-shirt hanging off the empty chair so Dean picked it up and sniffed it. It Didn't smell too bad so he pulled it down over his head. “Different how?”

Sam shrugged, set his sandwich down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Just _different_. I guess I feel _more_ or, somehow, better. Sounds crazy.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Dean shoved at the empty chair and sat down. “Your body has changed, maybe it still is. It’s gonna feel different.”

Sam set the napkin down by his sandwich. “It’s just a pretty constant reminder of … it.”

 _It_. The big pink elephant in the room was a silvery colored werewolf. “You know,” Dean said softly. “You make a beautiful wolf. Your fur is all silvery and your eyes look just the same. I would know those eyes anywhere.”

When Sam looked up there was a smile on his face. It was slight, but it was there. It made all the tension in Dean’s body release a little.

 

“So.”

“So,” Dean echoed.

“What now?” Even though Sam had said he was hungry, he set his sandwich aside.

“Whatcha mean?”

“I’m not gonna run. We’re here together. What now?” Sam rubbed at his shoulder and frowned slightly.

Dean knew what his brother was asking him. What it came down to, was that Sam wanted to know if things were going to be okay. Sure, there had been moments when Dean hadn’t been sure where the _hell_ they were headed, but they didn’t last. There was one thing that Dean knew beyond any doubt and that was that he and Sam belonged together. The truly shitty stuff they’d been through, the bottom of the barrel had been when they were apart.

“Dean?” Worry had furrowed Sam’s brow.

“Yeah. Sorry. Sam, we do what we always do. We hunt, we save people and we stay together.”

“You make it sound easy,” Sam said darkly.

“It is, Sam. It’s the easiest thing in the world for me to be with you.” Dean believed it like he believed the sun would come up every morning. When Dean had _nothing_ else worth living for, he had the way he felt about Sam. he had the quiet moments in the car when Sam would reach over and touch his thigh. He held onto the memories of all the smiles he had seen on Sam’s face. The best moments in a long, stretched out life of shitty days full of fucked up situations were all _Sam._

When Dean looked up, there were tears welling in Sam’s eyes. But, there was also a smile on his face. Dean felt the bite of that smile right smack in the center of his heart. That was what Sam did to him. “Buck up, camper. I bet there’s a hunt for us just around the corner.”

Sam laughed quietly and wiped at his nose. “I’ve been hunting a lot.”

“I know, ya fucker.” Dean rubbed at his chest to try and ease the throb he felt because of how much he loved his brother.

Sam’s laughter got a little louder and a little stronger. It was a wonderful sound.

“So,” Dean began after he cleared his throat. “What we do is we keep hunting. _And_ we spend time together doing the girly shit you love.”

Dean’s comment earned him a rather exaggerated eyeroll so it was worth it. He grinned and picked up his coffee.


End file.
